Catching Courage
by Nekida
Summary: Ron has a secret admirer. He's so confused about what to do that it depresses him a bit. Hermione is worried for him and helps him find the courage to face the unknown. RonHermione Lots of fluff. RR Plz.


AN: This fic takes place in year 6. Yes, I've read HBP and I'm fully aware of what happens. So just pretend that that stuff never happened alright?

Disclaimer: Not mine. Get off my back.

Catching Courage

They had never expected something like this.

_My Dearest Ron Weasley,_

_I have written this letter to inform you, that for quite a while, I have fancied you. You are the light of my life and my heart skips a beat every time I see you. When you pass me in the hall, I can't help but stop breathing, hoping that you noticed me. I will write again. Do not search for me, you will learn who I am in due time._

_With My Love,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

_P.S. – A few chocolate frogs are enclosed. I know how much you love sweets._

"How obvious, putting chocolate frogs spiked with love potion in the envelope. Knowing Ron, he would've eaten them by now." Hermione's brow furrowed as she slapped the note onto the floor with utmost disgust. "RON!"

"What?" The redhead sitting next to her replied, opening the second chocolate frog from the envelope. It had almost hopped out of the box, but Ron was quick enough to catch the little bugger before it got away. Making sure his grip was firm, he looked over to Hermione with a questioning look on his already chocolate-covered face.

"You… ACTUALLY ATE ONE?" She exclaimed, holding up the small opened box that rested by his knee. Harry, who sat in the other corner of the little triangle on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, sniggered. "These are bound to have love potion in them! They're not safe!"

"Aww, come off it, Hermione. If they were spiked, wouldn't they have worked by now? I ate it three minutes ago!" Ron bit off half of the second frog as Harry nodded in agreement.

"Ugh. Fine then." Hermione sighed in defeat. "But don't say I didn't warn you." She dropped the packaging on the floor, and looked back at the note. The parchment that was covered in blue ink lay slack on the floor. For some reason, she felt a tad angry, angry at this girl who refused to give her name. Cowardice, Hermione called it. If she was going to tell someone that she fancied them, she would've done it face-to-face.

"Suppose maybe we can find out who it is by their handwriting? Does it look familiar at all?" Harry suggested, tapping his finger on the parchment, a little frown curving his lips. Ron shook his head.

"I highly doubt that that's the handwriting of someone we know. Fred and George invented a new type of ink that changes your handwriting with a certain spell. You can even make it look like someone else's. I've used it before. It's mostly used for forging signatures, really." Ron pulled out his wand and tapped the letter. "Metamencia Hermione!" he muttered. For a split second, the parchment turned a glowing, iridescent green, and the blue ink had changed shape. Same words, same blue ink, except this time, it looked like Hermione's handwriting. "Yup, that's it. If you don't specify a name with the spell, it'll just randomly pick anyone's handwriting. It could've been the handwriting of someone on the other side of the country for all we know. " Hermione mouthed an inaudible wow, and picked up the letter.

"It really does look like my handwriting. That's amazing!" She smiled, yet she was still angry with that coward of a girl. She even used an enchanted ink, which made it even more cowardly. Her grin fading, she put down the parchment again, and slowly petted the nearby Crookshanks that was curled up by her thigh.

It was a very peculiar letter. It appeared in the Gryffindor common room, on one of the very comfortable chairs in the corner. No one had touched it, for it had Ron's name written on it in the enchanted ink and barely anyone took the time to rest in there much lately. The Christmas season was coming up, so everyone was enjoying everyone else's company out on the lawn with the fresh snow or in the Great Hall that was being neatly decorated for the season. Hermione had noticed it when she went to drop off all her books so that she could go to watch Harry and Ron during Quidditch practice.

Harry stood up from his seat on the floor and said, "I'm going to bed now. It's getting a tad late. See you in the morning?" Ron and Hermione agreed and they made their way to their beds.

Ron tossed and turned in his four-poster. Who was this secret admirer of his? It was fairly new to Ron having a secret admirer. He'd never gotten a love letter before, and he had no idea how to handle the situation in a way where he get it over with as swiftly as possible. He obviously would have a hard time finding out who this person was. Even though it had appeared in the Gryffindor common room, they still could've gotten one of their Gryffindor friends to drop it. Even so, Ron highly doubted that the person who dropped it for them would admit it.

Ron's mind raced. From Quidditch to Christmas to Love Letter to Quidditch to Christmas to Love Letter to. . . Hermione. Yes it was true, he had fancied Hermione for a quite a while now, maybe two, three, four years even? Never had he mustered up the courage to tell her though. He didn't even tell Harry! She and her brainy-ness, which to tell the truth, was a feature of Hermione that he actually liked, the way she looked out for himself and Harry, her charming smile were locked up in his heart, a secret just for him to know. He had planned on telling Hermione that year, around Christmas time, when the snow made everything seem more delightful but the sudden yet un-delightful event in the form of a parchment splashed with blue ruined his plan completely. He wanted it to go away. . . so that everything will be easy again.

His mind wandered to a wonderful fantasy.

Himself and Hermione sharing a first kiss on the Quidditch field.

And with that heavenly thought, he finally drifted off to dream-filled slumber.

XxXxX

The next morning was quite gloomy. Clouds of gray hung over Hogwarts in a scattered fashion. Classes resumed as usual, and Ron found himself thinking about the love letter more than he thought about anything else. He thought about it so much that the potion he was trying to create (a sleeping potion for overactive pets 'Need to give some to Pig,' thought Ron.) ended up overflowing with bubbles because he didn't add the ground up firefly powder in quick enough, which, if he did correctly, the bubbles would have disappeared after two clockwise stirs. Professer Snape had swooped by like the scary bat he was and cleaned up the mess, and gave Ron another failing grade on his not-so-perfect concoction. His lack of attention made his day a tad more complicated than any ordinary day.

"Take your mind off of it, Ron, you'll figure it out soon enough." Harry lectured Ron as they walked out of their Charms class, which ended up, yet again disastrous because of Neville's robes being caught on fire (they were practicing lighting and extinguishing flammable objects, and unfortunately, Neville's robes were under the flammable category). They made their way to the Gryffindor Tower.

"I can't! I've never gone through something like this before! I don't know what to do! Especially because. . ." Ron's words diminished. He was about to mention Hermione and how he had fancied her, but he caught himself.

"Because?" Harry questioned. He noticed a tiny blush rising upon Ron's cheeks. "Why, do you fancy someone different?" Bingo. Ron's ears were now a bright red that almost perfectly matched his flaming hair.

"N-No, I—" Ron started.

"It's so obvious that that's it, Ron." Harry said very seriously, secretly hoping that his best friend would spill the truth.

Ron cracked. "Fine. I DO fancy someone, okay? Happy?" An exasperated frown tugged at his lips.

"No." They had reached the painting of the Fat Lady. "Cinnamon Snaps," The Fat Lady beamed and swung open, revealing the door that they opened to occupy the deserted common room. Flames flickered within the fireplace, a nice, cozy touch to the Christmas season. Laughing slightly, Harry pointed. Someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe over the fireplace. Perhaps a snogging session took place earlier that day.

An eyebrow rose; Ron ignored Harry and his attempt to drop the conversation. "What do you mean, no?"

"Tell me who it is." Ron sighed. It wasn't like Harry to nose around so much in his business. But what was he afraid of? Harry was his best friend. He trusted him. Why was it that whenever Ron tried to voice what he really felt inside, it was as hard teaching a Blast-Ended Skrewt to dance? It really shouldn't be, he thought. The boy decided to tell the truth. He slumped down in a big, comfy blood red chair. With another exasperated sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's. . . " Ron started, "H-Hermione."

His lips curved into an embarrassed grin, accompanied by his glowing red ears. To a slight surprise, Harry hadn't made a satisfying reaction. Reacting in a way that Ron wouldn't have ever expected, really.

"Great you can admit now."

Ron scoffed at Harry's know-it-all tone of voice. "Am I THAT obvious?" The everlasting, and quite known Weasley blush had tinged his cheeks and ears. His brow furrowed as he crossed his arms in slight disappointment.

"A little TOO obvious my friend." And with that, Ron got started on his Transfiguration homework; they didn't speak for a long time.

XxXxX

Hermione, on the other hand was quite busy with things of her own. Like Ron, the love letter had bothered her too. A little too much, really. Every time she saw Ron that day, she kept a good watch for girls who showed some interest in him. Unfortunately, she had no luck. No one seemed interested in Ron like at all. She took a lot of her free time that day in the library as usual, reading books that didn't connect to each other at all to get her mind off of the letter.

Still, she couldn't help but worry about it. For one thing, it was Ron that it concerned, and whatever concerned Ron, even though it really shouldn't have, concerned her anyway. Sure, she had fallen for him within the years that they had know each other, but she still frowned at her pathetic worrying. What was she worried about? It was just a secret admirer. That's all.

But yet, was that really all?

Hermione thought, that maybe. . . she was feeling jealous of the girl. Probably because she actually confessed her love while Hermione was still concealing herself.

'Someone beat me to it, I guess.' She frowned sadly, slowly flipping a page of a red leather-bound book called "Witching the Itching : Spells for Curing and Relieving Insect Bites" It was useful for the summer and whatnot, with all the mosquitoes flying around, but she still had a hard time concentrating. Every page of the book was splashed with the image of the Weasley. Hermione wondered why she couldn't just tell him. It didn't seem that hard, saying a few words that could make or break them. With that thought, she realized that that's the reason why she was so hesitant. What if Ron didn't like her back? Scratch that. She KNEW Ron didn't like her back. There was just the slight but threatening chance that their friendship would be ruined if something happened between them. For Hermione, this was a major concern, and she would've rather kept her friendship with him, then ever gone out with him in the first place. Sometimes she just wished that love wasn't so complicated.

The brunette giggled. She called it love. Whatever she was feeling for her fire haired best friend. . . she had called it love. 'Well, maybe not love, per se, but something close to it.'

She turned to a page with a mosquito repellant charm. 'Fascinating,' she thought as her eyes darted to each word on the page. It made her forget about Ron just a tad, but even so, her love for him remained.

XxXxX

The days past by, with Ron, Harry and Hermione put the test to find out the identity of Ron's secret admirer. The Weasley's mood seemed to get darker, unfortunately. Every day it seemed that he ate less, and talked less. Hermione, hoping to cheer up Ron some, tried every way possible to start up a conversation with him.

"Ron, I have nothing to do tonight," She spoke, glancing down to where he was sitting at the table in the common room, "would you like to take a walk with me?" Harry had to go serve a detention with Snape, one of three that he got for giving him cheek. So Hermione and Ron were all alone. The thought made her insides swell with content. She waited a few seconds for him to acknowledge her. His head tilted to the side to meet her gaze and she half smiled, hoping that whatever was making him upset wasn't getting to him too much. They sat in silence, their eyes locked until the redhead finally replied, "Sure, Hermione, let me get my jacket."

They had made their way out onto the grounds, where the snow had piled up to around three inches. Blankets of white had stretched across the fields and covered the up the lush green of the grass. The two walked down to the lake, and stopped at the snow covered bank. They hadn't said a word. Ron sat down, sinking into the snow and sighed.

"Hermione, why did you want to take a walk with me?" Fear had tainted his voice. Shivers ran down Hermione's spine as he spoke. Something about the way he said it. . . there was a cold, steely feeling to it, a scary feeling. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm worried about you, Ron." In contrast to his tone, her voice was filled with concern, the strong desire to be some sort of help to him. It was as if her voice was crying. Pleading, maybe. "I'm really. . . worried about you."

"And why is that?" He had not looked at her ever since they left the common room.

"You've been acting so down ever since that love letter," she heard him let out a breath he had been holding during that sentence, "and it's scaring me and Harry."

"You're wasting your time." Hermione's brow furrowed. Some anger swirled with the concern.

"Time with you is never wasted!" She blurted out, stepping a few steps forward, her body right next to Ron as he sat. Realizing what she said, little hints of pink blotches arose on her cheeks. "Well, what I mean by that is, I never go out of my way to waste time with anything. Everything I do has a purpose. . . and you're my best friend, Ron. I doubt that there has ever been a time that I regretted being around you." It was the best she could come up with it. Hopefully she wasn't being too obvious.

Ron's ears had reddened in color a bit as well. He never expected Hermione to say such things. Heck, he was surprised she took the time to speak to him like this in the first place. His gaze still did not stray from the rippling waters of the lake. Suddenly, he felt gentle warmth pooling at his side. Hermione's hand left his shoulder to touch his hand that was half-buried in snow.

"Please Ron, tell me what's wrong." She pleaded, taking his hand and intertwining their gloved fingers. Heat from their hands played back and forth between their palms, and Hermione tried hard to convince herself that what she was doing was out of friendship. Of course, she couldn't suppress a blush. Ron couldn't either, his ears and cheeks turning redder than before. For an instant, his eyes jerked to meet their tangled fingers, but then quickly snapped back to the water.

"I. . ." he began, "I just don't know what to do, Hermione." She nodded slowly to let him know that she was listening. All of a sudden, her fingers felt the cool air nip at her skin once more as she realized that his hand had traveled to his jean pocket and pulled out another piece of parchment which had his name on it once more. For a second, she thought it was the same letter as before, but she soon realized that it was a completely different letter, with a different handwriting.

_My Dearest Ron Weasley,_

_This may seem too soon of a request, but I would like to ask you to meet me next Saturday at 8:00 in the Astronomy Tower. If you can't come, I understand._

_With Love,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

"Hermione, have you ever had a secret admirer before?" Ron asked, his fingers that were wrapped around the edges of the parchment trembling. Hermione thought for a moment. She pursed her lips, then snapped her gloved fingers.

"Actually, yes, I have. It was in elementary school. . ." She started.

"Wait, what school?"

"Oh, it was just the school I attended as a child. Anyway, there was this boy in my class named Blake. He was sorta clumsy, always falling. So one day, I discover a note in my desk and it was from my Secret Admirer. I didn't know who it was for a long time, but then one day, I passed Blake in the hall and he tripped on nothing and fell, his books scattering everywhere. I go to help him pick them up and I discover another note that looked exactly like the one before, so I figured out who it was quite easily." Hermione explained, her eyes boring into the side of Ron's head.

"What did you do before you found out?" Ron's voice sounded quite curious, like he was enjoying the story. Hermione beamed at him. It seemed as if his mood was picking up a bit.

"Nothing really. I didn't mind the note much."

"I wish it could be the same with me." Ron sighed.

"Why are you letting it bother you, then?" With that, Ron's eyes finally turned to gaze into Hermione's worried face. The hand that had grabbed at the letter in his pocket went again to rest by his side. He gave her a lopsided grin. Red tinged his cheeks, because of the cold and because of embarrassment.

"I don't know what to tell her. I want to be nice to her. I don't want to appear rude or insensitive. It's just. . ." he bit his lip. Should he tell her about his feeling? Or should he let her to think for a while? "It's just that I fancy someone else. . ." The blush that had tainted the coloring of his cheeks grew brighter. His hand inched towards hers, but he wasn't quick enough.

"Oh. . ." she said, disappointed. "Well, tell her that. She'd understand. I would." Sadly, it was true. She did understand. Ron liked someone else. Her feelings meant nothing, absolutely nothing. Tears were pushing to escape from her eyes, but she did as much as she could to hold them back.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, Hermione." Ron said, his eyes moving to the lake. "I'll do that then. That's what I'll tell her. In the meantime. . ." He stopped, hoping that this was the moment that he could finally tell Hermione everything. Breathing in a deep breath, he began to speak, only to be interrupted.

"Well, I think we should go back up to the castle," She stood up and held out her hand. Trying hard to hold back the tears, she tilted her head a bit, gazing at him in the corner of her eye. Sighing, Ron took her hand and stood up, his eyes still attached to Hermione's. He didn't want to let her go, not now. It was the perfect moment, and he was not going to ruin it. Taking his chances, he reached out and pulled Hermione into a warm embrace; he heard her gasp as she fell into his arms. Shocked, Hermione slowly returned the embrace, her cheeks burning as she buried her head into his snug shoulders. Ron squeezed her tighter and nuzzled her soft brunette hair.

"Hermione. . ." He breathed in her ears softly. It was hard, keeping in her emotions. Burning tears that were earlier suppressed surfaced, rolling down her pink cheeks. She snuggled closer to Ron, hoping that he won't see her crying.

But he did.

Jerking her forward so that he could see her face, his eyes softened as he lifted up a strong thumb to wipe away the sadness. She looked up at him pleadingly, wishing that he would embrace her once more. Cool air nipped at her cheeks and she longed for his warmth to sink into her skin once more. Ron did not make a move. His face looked serious, like he was thinking very hard about something. A frown etched into his features, concern imprinted within his eyes that Hermione thought she would get lost in.

The letter was forgotten. It was only Ron and Hermione now. There was no Harry Potter, there was no Hogwarts. . . there was just them, with his hands on her shoulders and her tears on his mind.

"Please, don't cry. . ." He whispered, his own eyes beginning to moisten as he stepped closer. Hermione shook her head abruptly.

"I-It's alright. You like someone else. . . I'm not as important. Don't worry about me." Wavering, her voice struggled to escape her lips. She was barely audible. 'What is wrong with me? I'm strong, how can I cry so easily? It's no big deal, he just likes another girl. . . which leaves me. . .' Heat slid down her face once more, this time in a larger quantity then before. Ron's expression looked distressed. He stepped closer to her, squeezing her shoulders.

"Hermione, you don't understand! Listen to me!" pleaded the boy. Before he could say anything else, Hermione moved away, her voice louder than before, but this time, distorted and tormented.

"I understand completely!" She cried, stepping backward a few more feet.

"You don't! Hermione! Stop this!" and as he spoke, he lunged toward her, his hands flying to the small of her back as he crushed his lips to hers into a burning kiss that seemed to cease the tears flowing from Hermione's shining eyes.

He kissed her. He finally mustered up the courage to kiss her. Maybe it wasn't on the Quidditch field like he had dreamed, but it was still amazing. A sense of fulfillment rushed from the back of his neck to his toes, accompanied by a heat that burned on every inch of his skin.

Hermione, who was, in contrast to Ron, very astonished, melted into his embrace as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sensations of warmth and happiness rippled through her. His lips were soft, inviting. Heat danced between them as their bodies became closer and closer until there was no space between them. Passion wiped away the cold that had bitten at their noses, and Ron's right hand had moved up on Hermione's back to fiddle with the ends of her hair as he playfully kissed her nose and pulled away, laughing. Hermione gave a half-hearted scowl.

"What are you laughing about?" She asked, her arms crossing.

"Nothing," he said, running his hands down to her hips, "just funny how the mood can change so dramatically so quickly, huh?" Beaming, Ron chastely kissed her on the cheek. "Now tell me that you understood what I meant." He whispered gently yet playfully in her ear.

Hermione blushed deeply. She admitted to herself that she shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Giggling, she grabbed his hand, a wide smile on her face.

"Let's go back. It's cold, we should warm up. Treat ourselves to some hot chocolate, maybe?" She pulled him in the direction of the castle.

"That'd be nice." Ron said, pulling on Hermione's arm to stop her in her tracks. He caught up with her, gave her a peck on the lips. "Hermione, thank you."

XxXxX

The walk back to the common room was a short one, but he had to admit, it was the most enjoyable. Hand-in-hand with Hermione was a good way to be. By the time they reached the castle, he realized one thing. He loved Hermione. It was not like, like he thought it was before. What he was feeling in his heart was love. Sheer love was what kept them from not tearing each other into bits when they had a row. He had been afraid before that the love he was feeling would someday ruin them. Even so, he would not give this up once he had it. He made a silent vow. To always protect the happiness that he felt whenever he was around her.

"Oh, there's Ginny," he heard Hermione's voice pierce through the moment of happy thoughts that were dancing around in his mind. Ron focused ahead of them, his sister Ginny was conversing with a dirty blonde girl that was about two inches shorter than her. He let go of Hermione's hand, not wanting Ginny to find out about them. She would know soon enough, just not now. When the whole situation with his Secret Admirer was over and done with, then she'd know.

As they got closer, Ron suddenly recognized the dirty blonde girl. She carried five heavy books in her arms, and it looked as if she would fall over any second.

"Genevieve," he whispered to Hermione.

"Who?"

"Genevieve Worthing," Ron said, gesturing toward the girl, "she's one of Ginny's friends. A Hufflepuff fourth year. She comes to visit every summer for a few days at a time. She's nice, but darn clumsy." After he finished explaining, they watched as Ginny said goodnight and Genevieve came waddling down the corridor toward Ron and Hermione, her stacks of books swaying dangerously. As she approached, Hermione got a better look at the girl. Her dirty blonde hair that was fine and straight went down to the small of her back. She had dark blue eyes that were perched on top of a cute, button nose. Cream coloring splashed every inch of her skin.

"Hey, Genny," Ron waved at her as she passed by. Genevieve tripped on nothing and fell onto the floor, her books scattering about. "What did I tell you, clumsy." He whispered to Hermione, who giggled. Ron knelt down and helped Genevieve, who was rubbing her creamy arm where a book had fell on it, retrieve her books. Stacking the books in a nice, clean pile, he smiled at her.

"I-I'm sorry, Ron, I'm so clumsy," Genevieve's cheeks turned pink as she picked up her books.

"That's all right, Genny, no harm done, right?" He said, beaming. She looked at him and smiled nervously. Ron then snapped his gaze to Hermione, who was grinning as well. "Oh, Genny, by the way, this is Hermione. I told you about her, didn't I?"

"H-Hello," Genny nodded in Hermione's direction, who nodded politely back. "W-Well, I have to go. S-See you later, Ron, Hermione." She said quickly, waddling away, the stack of books yet again swaying in different directions.

"Nice girl," he said, as he and Hermione resumed their trip back to the common room. Ginny had disappeared. Ron's hand blindly pawed at Hermione's and he intertwined his fingers with hers. Their eyes locked for a second or two, and they both smiled warmly.

He was going to sleep easy that night.

XxXxX

AN: Alright, one or two more chapters left. I'm gonna leave it here. I WAS going to make it a one-shot, but I have more ideas. Also, it's not coincidence that Genevieve's and Ginerva's nicknames sound almost the same. I wanted the OC, who is supposed to be the good friend of Ginny that we never see to share some kind of obvious similarity to her. Please R + R. Got any ideas who Ron's Secret Admirer is? Fire away! Also, I promise that you'll see more of Harry later. This chapter called for a lot of R/Hr fluff.


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